


Burning Stormlight

by gwenhyneargwenhyfar, Pachimew, Stingythefish



Category: Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: "hey look at this crack fic idea" "you do realize we have to write this now", Gen, Various Handwavery, groupchat is titled "kelsier's bizarre adventure", wow there are a lot of us
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenhyneargwenhyfar/pseuds/gwenhyneargwenhyfar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pachimew/pseuds/Pachimew, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stingythefish/pseuds/Stingythefish
Summary: Adolin Kholin is a Radiant. At least, he’s pretty sure he is, even if his spren seems kind of weird and his Surges don’t match up with the legends. He can use Stormlight, at least, so that counts...right?Okay, he’s not sure he’s doing this right at all. But hey, his spren has enough confidence for the both of them—and lots of things to teach him. Between the two of them, Adolin’s sure he’ll be able to figure things out!Just as soon as Kel stops insisting he overthrow the nobility. Adolin kind of needs that.





	1. prologue

Paddling through marbles on a door that also used to be a marble was not very pleasant. It took more effort than you’d expect just to stay afloat. Each tilt and turn of the sea of spheres sent Kelsier’s metaphysical stomach lurching as he felt his semi-corporeal body slide precariously towards the edge. He didn’t know what would happen if he fell in, but he didn’t expect it to be good. Those marbles didn’t look like they’d allow anyone to properly swim in, and though he didn’t think it was possible for him to die, Kelsier wasn’t about to fall all the way to the bottom of a massive ocean of spheres with no way back up.

His mind returned to a certain white haired Drifter as he paddled with a wooden plank he’d happened across earlier. _F__uzz had called him Cephandrius, _Kelsier recalled. He seemed up to no good. Kelsier wondered if the pointy-nosed man had come here. _Well, the cosmere is a big place. What are the odds? _At any rate, Kelsier had other concerns. Mainly the fact that gods existed.

Scadrial, the apparent name of his own planet, had harbored two, now joined into Sazed of all people. It was coming up on three hundred years, and sometimes Kelsier was still amazed that his quiet friend had managed to become the most powerful being on the planet. 

He’d heard of other planets, some of which had their own..._ shards, _ as Khriss had referred to them. Would this world hold any of them? Kelsier hoped so. Otherwise this entire trip would have been a waste.

After all, what better way to spend the afterlife than hunting gods?

Kelsier glanced behind him. He’d left land behind long ago, or what was water in the Physical Realm. Not even the smallest hint of a flat plane teetered on the horizon; he was utterly stranded on this makeshift boat. 

Where was he now? He could only guess. Who knew what this world really looked like; according to some accounts he’d heard, planets could look vastly different. He knew he was someplace where lots of people were; little flames dotted the area all around him, but left a strangely clear circle. This was a place meant to be watched. A stadium? A theater? 

Perhaps he should take a look around, see where he’d ended up. Dipping his hand into the orbs, he felt around at objects. A strange dress, a stone, an odd glass sphere encasing a gemstone. Whoa, that one was big. An entire arena, by the looks of it. _ That _ was what all the souls were gathered around for; by their placement it seemed as though a number of them were encircling a pair actually in the pit of the arena. _In__teresting._

A flash of colour caught his eye. There, in the stands—was that...a woman? Yes, it was. A full sized woman, entirely blue, seemed to be mingling among the human souls, though she didn’t seem wholly there, somehow. What _ was _ that? Another being in the Cognitive Realm? He’d thought those were rare, but apparently there was one just loitering about among a bunch of humans. And she was _ blue _, somehow.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first strange thing Kelsier had encountered in the Cognitive Realm. 

“An arena fight, huh?” He mused aloud. It was a thing unheard of back in the days of the Final Empire. Still, after three hundred years in the Cognitive Realm, he’d heard of a few outlandish things. Arena fights, duels as they were sometimes called—not fought with dueling canes, but with swords. “A terrible idea,” he muttered to himself. “Any Lurcher could easily wrench that from your hands.”

Paddling through the spheres, he slowly made his way towards the large gathering of souls, until he at last stopped in between the two fighters. Strangely, it appeared as though the two souls were encased in glowing _ armor _ . _What…? _Kelsier stared. Was he back on Scadrial? Since when did objects here look like anything more than spheres? 

The two men, both wearing armor obviously made of metal, moved and darted about the space, the movement of the strange plate actually giving Kelsier an idea of what the fight looked like. Their swords clashed violently as they battled, and Kelsier kept getting forced out of the way of the very solid metal armor._ Wish they’d have left parts of their suits off, _ he thought, finally paddling a distance away. _Maybe then I’d be able to touch them and see what they look like. _ It had been a while since he’d seen a human face.

Suddenly, an arm piece on one of the fighters’ suits _ disappeared _ with a vicious strike of his enemy’s blade. Kelsier frowned, but elected to ignore the fact that an object had suddenly ceased to exist in favour of quickly rushing forward and grabbing at the man’s arm, desperately touching his soul. 

He was a lot younger than Kelsier expected, around his mid twenties, with a handsome face and tousled blond and black hair. Strangely, despite having lost a piece of his armor, he was grinning. Suddenly the man dashed forward, delivering a powerful blow to his opponent’s chest. The man’s chest plate _ also _ disappeared, and he stumbled backwards, falling to the ground. The blond-ish man rushed at him, quickly seizing the moment and smashing his blade into his opponent’s helmet. 

Kelsier applauded to himself, grinning as the blond man stepped back and, obviously exhausted, walked over to a nearby soul. He raised his glowing blade in salute, and Kelsier, realizing what was happening, paddled frantically over to the person his blade was pointed at. Touching the soul, he saw an older woman, posture and gestures suggesting she was congratulating the fighter on his battle won. 

“Not bad, kid,” Kelsier muttered to himself, watching as the blond fighter retreated into what must have been a back room to the arena. _ He fought well. Must have been planning on making his opponent think he was losing, then used that to his advantage. Just the sort of thing I might do. Clever. _

Kelsier began to paddle about the other souls, touching them in turn and getting an idea of what they looked like. None seemed to stand out, though, and he found his mind going back to that blond young man, to the way he’d outsmarted his opponent. _ I might just have to follow that one, _ Kelsier thought to himself with a grin. _I have a feeling he’ll do great things. Especially if I’m around. _


	2. survive!

_ The words, Adolin. _

In the heat of battle, Adolin gasped for breath. Three Shardbearers pressed in on him, the fourth engaging Renarin. His brother clumsily tried to parry as Adolin charged the other Shardbearers. Storms, he’d thought they were  _ friends _ _ — _

_ Adolin. The words. You need to speak the words. _

The Words…

The strange voice had been speaking to Adolin since Amaram had been assigned head of the Knights Radiant. It was sharp, strongly opinionated, and always seemed to have a bit of a smile.

Adolin thought he knew what it was. What it was asking of him.

The Words.

“Life before—” Adolin growled out.

_ No!  _ the voice said.  _ Not those words.  _ My  _ words. _

“What?” Adolin said, heedless of the mocking comment Relis made in response to Adolin speaking to thin air.

_ Survive! _

_ “What?”  _

_ SURVIVE! _

“Okay!” Adolin yelped.  _ “Survive!”  _

Power flooded him, sudden and sharp, energy coursing through his body. Adolin nearly stopped dead in surprise.

_ Use it, you idiot! Don’t just stand there! _

“Right!” Adolin said. “How?!”

_ Burn the metals; you’ll want pewter for this! _

“I don’t know what that means!”

_ Reach inside yourself and burn the power source! _

Adolin still didn’t know what that meant, but he gave it a go as he blocked an incoming attack. Yes, there—there  _ was  _ some kind of power resting inside of him, asking to be used.

Adolin...burned it. Blue lines shot out from him, lighting up the Plate in sparkling blue webs.

The voice groaned.  _ Wrong metal. Pick another! _

He let go of that power and reached for another. The sudden influx of sensory input nearly knocked him over as everything came sharply into focus—the sunlight, blinding even through his helm, the ridges and grooves on his Blade before him, the man standing behind his opponents—wait. What? 

_ “That’s tin!”  _ The man’s mouth moved in sync with the voice Adolin was hearing. This man was what was giving him powers, or at least telling him how to use them—he must be some kind of spren, causing this magic. Funny, he’d never seen a spren look so human before.  _ “Pewter! You’re looking for pewter! That’s tin’s complement, find the metal that feels similar to what you’re burning now!” _

Adolin scrambled back from another attack as he searched his power sources for something like the tin. There! He burned it, feeling its effect instantly: his exhaustion faded, his muscles surged with renewed power. 

_ There you go,  _ the spren said. He’d vanished from view again, but Adolin could hear the smile in his voice.  _ Now, get them! _

Adolin swung his Blade at Relis with a shout. The other Shardbearer didn’t move in time, and Adolin’s blow didn’t just crack the Plate—it  _ shattered  _ it.

He didn't have much time to think about that, startling as it was. While Relis was more or less incapacitated, Renarin was still in trouble. He had to deal with the others quickly so he could help. 

_ Steel would be useful now _ , _ kid.  _

“Steel?”

_ The metal you burned first, with the blue lines. _

“Oh!” Adolin burned it and the web of blue shot out again. The surge of strength faded too—

_ No! Don’t stop burning pewter, keep it on, burn them both! _

He could do that? Adolin reached for the pewter again and found that yes, he could.

_ Good, now Push! _

Adolin wasn’t completely sure what that meant, but it was an easy enough guess. He focused on the lines outlining Arbrobadar’s Plate and  _ shoved  _ with all his mental might.

The Shardbearer hit the sands with a  _ whump _ . Renarin froze, staring wide-eyed at his brother.

“Move!” Adolin yelled to him, and Renarin scrambled into action.

Adolin refound his momentum as Renarin ran out of his line of sight, focusing his attention on Jakamav. The man stood cautiously in Vinestance. A stance for defense; he must have been wary after Adolin's surge of strength. 

“Got any more tricks for me?” Adolin asked his spren.

_ Kid, I  _ always  _ have more tricks. See if you can find zinc. _

“How will I know it?” Adolin asked as Jakamav stared him down suspiciously. 

_ Feel for the minds around you.  _

Adolin felt around for the power—thank the Almighty Jakamav was being cautious—and burned the new source. For once it seemed right. “Now what?” he asked the spren.

_ Focus on his fear. Then Pull it! _

Pull on...emotions? That seemed an odd way to think of things, but why not? Everything else had worked so far, this might as well. 

Adolin Pulled. Jakamav’s stance turned from wary to shaky, from cautious to uncertain. He started to back towards the wall. Adolin took a step forwards. The other Shardbearer took two shuffling steps back. Adolin raised his Blade to strike—

Someone crashed into his side, making him stumble. Adolin whirled around. Storms! He’d forgotten about Elit— _ stupid,  _ this was a four-on-one duel!

_ The hammer!  _ his spren yelled.  _ Push on the hammer! _

Blue still danced in Adolin’s vision. He Pushed on the lines connecting to the hammer, shoving a hand forwards instinctively. Elit stumbled back as his hammer tore itself out of his grip and went flying towards the arena wall.

A yell from Adolin’s other side, and he had to spin and block Jamakav’s Blade. Damnation! He’d stopped Pulling on his emotions — apparently that had been enough for his former friend to recover and attack. 

Adolin danced back a few steps to get them both in his vision and fell into Windstance. Oddly, he felt heavier than he should. His Plate hadn’t been damaged  _ that  _ much, had it? Once his spren had coaxed him into speaking the words, he’d been almost untouched, but those first attacks  _ had  _ been vicious… 

_ Aw, damn.  _

“What?!” Adolin half-snapped.

_ You’ve been using Light to burn metals. _

“I’ve been  _ what  _ to do  _ what?”  _ Adolin said. The question was mostly rhetorical; he started to understand the implications even as he spoke. His strange powers functioned with Stormlight, just like Shardplate did—and somehow, he’d been using the Stormlight  _ in his Plate  _ to fuel his powers.

Not good.

* * *

Kaladin had fallen into a half-crouched position on top of the arena wall after his aborted move to go help Adolin. 

Both princes had been in massive trouble for a moment earlier, but Adolin had suddenly seemed to gain a second wind and…and started displaying powers. The way he’d pushed away his opponent, the sudden surge of strength — if Kaladin squinted, he thought he could see a corona of bright Stormlight around him.

Was Adolin a Radiant? A Windrunner, even? No, surely that was impossible...

Elit's hammer suddenly flung itself out of his hands and flew towards the other end of the arena.

...Or maybe not.

And his Stormlight was fading. At least, Kaladin thought it was. He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or not. 

“His Plate isn’t leaking Stormlight anymore,” Shallan muttered. She stood next to Kaladin, though she hadn’t gotten on the arena wall like he had. “Doesn’t that mean that there isn’t enough Stormlight to leak?”

Wait. Adolin’s  _ Plate?  _ Kaladin glanced at the cracks in the blue metal. Sure enough, their glow was dimmed, barely visible.

_ Like when someone bleeds out,  _ Kaladin thought.  _ They start to bleed less because they’re out of blood, not because they’re healed.  _ If he remembered correctly, when Shardplate ran out of Stormlight it became ridiculously heavy… 

Kaladin watched Adolin’s movements. They  _ did  _ seem stiffer, like he had to move more weight.

Renarin tried to attack a Shardbearer recovering from one of Adolin’s earlier attacks, and Kaladin made his decision. He stood up, still balancing on the arena wall, and pivoted to face Dalinar. 

“If this goes wrong, look after my men.”

Then he jumped into the arena.

* * *

For a second, Adolin thought the muted  _ ‘thump’  _ was the sound of him extinguishing his metals. Then he realized that it hadn’t just been in his head as he looked to the side to see Kaladin hit the arena floor.

Further to the side, he also saw Renarin attack Relis. The larger man whirled in time to block Renarin’s Blade, nearly jarring it out of his hands. Relis raised his Blade, ready to bring it down in an overhand chop, and Adolin nearly called on his powers again —

Kaladin slammed into Relis’ side feet-first, hard enough to  _ crack the Plate.  _

_ Huh, _ Adolin’s spren said.  _ Who’s that idiot? _

“That’s Kaladin, he’s supposed to be guarding my father— _ bridgeboy! _ What are you doing here?!”

“I’m helping, princeling!” Kaladin yelled back. “Do you see anyone else bothering to try?!”

Well. He had a point there.

_ Looks like he might be special too _ .  _ I don’t think you people heal from broken bones that quick. _

“What?! Are you saying he’s Radi — ” Adolin cut himself off as Jakamav swung at him. He blocked the blow, but only barely. Damnation, his Plate was storming  _ heavy  _ now…

_ Burn pewter,  _ his spren suggested,  _ that will give you more strength to lift it. _

“Burning things is what got me into this in the first place, if you’ll recall!” Adolin hissed. Then, yelling to Kaladin, “Protect my brother! I’ve got this!”

“You don’t, but fine!”

Adolin turned back to Jakamav and Elit as Kaladin went for Relis—

That was only three opponents. He was fighting  _ four  _ Shardbearers. Adolin had thrown Abrobadar into the wall earlier, but he hadn’t knocked him out of the fight. Where was he?

There: not too far off, distracted by something Adolin couldn’t see. He was waving his sword at the ground for some reason. It was one less thing to worry about, at least.

_ What is that thing?  _ His spren—storms, Adolin needed to nickname him soon—muttered, looking at the ground with an inordinate amount of confusion.  _ Alright—priorities. Two men in front of us. _

“Glad you’ve got your helmet straight,” Adolin muttered, taking up defensive Stonestance.

_ I’ll have to remember that one so I don’t ever use it. _

Jakamav swung his Blade viciously at Adolin’s side, forcing Adolin to parry. Elit was able to score a hit on his defenseless side, however, and Adolin grunted as he felt his Plate crack. Damnation. With a sweep of his Blade he managed to force both men back, but his armor weighed him down, weakening the force of the blow. Jakamav, unaffected, slashed at him again. 

_ Your metals, man! _ His spren shouted.  _ Use your metals! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how! _

Adolin hesitated for a moment. Saving Stormlight wouldn’t matter if he  _ already _ couldn’t move well enough to fight, and his powers might be the only thing that could give him an edge. Adolin reached inside himself, burning steel. He tried to push Jakamav back as he had the hammer earlier, but this time he felt a  _ resistance _ .

_ That strange armor of theirs blocks metals they’re wearing beneath it, _ the spren muttered.  _ You won’t be able to Push or Pull on any of it. Try the hammer; it’s still lying back there. Make sure you pick iron and not steel. _

Iron must have been steel’s counterpart, like tin and pewter. Adolin found the metal and burned it, his eyes travelling down the blue line to where the hammer lay discarded at the other end of the arena. 

It was directly behind Jakamav. 

Grinning, Adolin  _ Pulled _ on it, and the weapon soared through the air towards him. A loud clang rang through the air, and Jakamav’s helm exploded in a burst of light. He extinguished the metal, but the hammer kept moving forwards, slamming the man to the ground. He was unconscious by the time he hit the sand.

Elit stared in horror at his downed ally. Adolin winced slightly. Hopefully, Jakamav would be fine; he didn’t want the man  _ dead.  _ But now his Plate was even heavier, on the verge of locking up entirely. He had to finish this quickly.

He chanced a glance around. Relis was stumbling out of the arena; bridgeboy must have forced him to surrender.  _ Good.  _ Renarin was huddled on the ground, staring at nothing. Not good. Abrobadar—still active, charging straight for Adolin.

_ Well,  _ Adolin thought as he struggled to raise his Blade into a defensive position,  _ better me than Renarin.  _

Kaladin slammed into Abrobadar’s side, stabbing at his back with half a spear. Abrobadar whirled wildly around, and Kaladin let go and dropped to the sand, rolling out of the way.

“Bridgeboy’s got him handled,” Adolin muttered to himself, grinning. He looked back at Elit—no sense watching bridgeboy fight and leaving himself open to attack—

Abrobadar screamed like someone had cut him open. Elit whirled to look as Adolin turned stiffly.

Kaladin was letting go of Abrobadar’s Shardblade, scrambling backwards so quickly he tripped over himself and fell. Abrobadar yelled something about not killing someone, then ran out of the arena like there was a chasmfiend on his heels, still screeching in fear.

_ Huh,  _ Adolin’s spren said into the deathly silence that followed.  _ You know, this does explain a couple things.  _

Adolin really didn’t want to know what it explained. He glanced upwards as the highjudge reluctantly declared both Abrobadar and Jakamav now disqualified from the match.  _ Great. We might actually be able to win this thing. _

Except the Stormlight in his Shardplate was leaking fast, and he drained it more every time he used his metals. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to move. This battle needed to end  _ now. _

“Bridgeboy!” He called out as Kaladin got back to his feet.

“What, princeling?”

“I can barely move. Lend me a hand?”

“I thought you were a master duelist!” Kaladin snapped, but nodded and approached Elit from behind.

Elit brandished his Blade warily, taking Kaladin much more seriously than his friends had. He faced sideways, keeping Adolin on his right and Kaladin on his left, and seemed unsure of who to attack first, or even whether to attack at all. Kaladin, half spear still in hand, poked at him a few times, nothing more than warning gestures, but Elit flinched at all of them, reacting with a light Blade swing with every movement the bridgeboy made.

_ He’s doing all the work, _ Adolin’s spren noted with dissatisfaction.  _ Go on and help him! _

Nodding to himself, Adolin tried to move his Blade and see how much he could even swing, but it was clear his Plate was on its last legs.  _ Fine, _ he thought, checking within himself. The metals were all still there, though they felt dangerously low. Maybe there was enough to Pull that hammer back and —

Elit suddenly made a violent swing at Kaladin, catching the bridgeboy off guard and sending him stumbling in the sand. While Kaladin recovered, Elit made a mad dash in the opposite direction. Adolin’s eyes widened in horror as he realized the man was aiming for  _ Renarin _ , who was only just managing to climb to his feet.

“No!” Adolin cried, extending a hand futility. 

_ Zinc, damn you! _ His spren shouted.  _ Pull on his fear! _

Without thinking, Adolin did as asked, repeating the trick he’d pulled with Jakamav before. With one last flare, his metals burned away — but Elit pulled up short in the sand, suddenly immobilized, and in that split second Kaladin was back on his feet, rushing towards the man and jabbing the half spear at the cracks in his Plate. With a few repeated jabs to the chest, Elit’s chestplate at last exploded, and the man fell to the ground with a clunk, his armor now missing the lynchpin piece.

The Light in Adolin’s own armor fizzled out, locking down entirely. He was stuck.

But he’d won.

They’d  _ won.  _

_ Well done,  _ Adolin’s spren said, a smile in his voice.  _ That was a close call, but you pulled it off. Reminds me...of someone. _

Adolin was only half listening. “We did it. Storms, we did it!”

“Just barely,” Kaladin rasped, returning to his side, Renarin trailing along behind him. He tilted his head at Adolin’s brother. “Renarin’s alright,” he said unnecessarily. 

Adolin let out a half-crazed laugh. “Always so serious, bridgeboy. Look around you! We actually won!”

Kaladin actually smiled, turning around and looking up at Highjudge Istow, who seemed just as shocked as everyone else in the audience. She sighed, and addressed the crowd. “Brightlord Elit has yielded. The day goes to Brightlord Adolin.”

Adolin couldn’t seem to stop laughing. The whole thing was mad, utterly ridiculous, and he’d  _ pulled it off anyways.  _ A surge of pride swept through him. His gaze locked with Sadeas’ among the onlookers. The red-faced man was staring down at him, hatred burning in his eyes, and Adolin puffed his chest out.  _ Take that, you piece of crem. _

“Bridgeboy,” Adolin said, “Kaladin — Kaladin, Renarin, help me get this off, I can’t move.”

Recognition filled the bridgeboy’s eyes. He nodded, clearly recalling the plan. With him and Renarin working together, pieces of Adolin’s armor fell away, and he stretched his arms gratefully. “Would either of you happen to have any gemstones? Preferably not dun ones?”

Renarin shook his head mutely. Kaladin frowned at him. “No, I—”

Elhokar had cleared his throat loudly, now addressing the entire audience. “Warrior, duelmaster,” he declared. “I am greatly pleased by what you have accomplished today.”

Excitement built in Adolin’s throat.  _ This is it,  _ he thought.  _ It’s finally happening. _

“This was a fight the like of which hasn’t been seen in Alethkar for generations. You have pleased your king greatly.”

_ I’m finally going to beat Sadeas. No more tricks, no more plots. Just me and him on the arena sands.  _

“I offer you a boon. Name what you wish of me or of this court. It shall be yours. No man, having seen this display, could deny you.”

Adolin took a deep breath, hands shaking in anticipation. “For my boon, I demand the Right of Challenge. I demand the chance to duel Highprince Sadeas, right here and now, as redress for the crimes he has committed against my house!”

_ That bastard? _ Adolin’s spren chuckled.  _ The one in prissy nobleman’s clothing? That’s who you’re fighting? Well, this’ll be over in no time. You probably won’t even have to use your metals. _

Sadeas, halfway through standing up, stopped dead. Adolin grinned viciously, opening his mouth to deliver the final challenge and demand Sadeas’ response.

Kaladin stepped up beside him. Adolin paused. That’s right...bridgeboy deserved a boon too, didn’t he? He’d fought just as hard as Adolin. 

“And for my boon!” Kaladin shouted, “I demand the Right of Challenge against the murderer Amaram!”

Adolin’s heart dropped into his feet.  _ No no no no—what is he doing?! _

_ Damn right, _ the spren said, oblivious to Adolin’s inner panic.  _ These nobleman will have nothing on that boy. He’s got a fighter’s spirit, almost more than Vin did. _

“He stole from me and slaughtered my friends to cover it up. Amaram branded me a slave!”

The people thought Amaram was a paragon of virtue. They would never take the word of a darkeyed bridgeman over Amaram’s immaculate— _ too  _ immaculate—reputation. 

“I will duel him here, right now. That is the boon I demand!”

_ Show him, boy!  _ the spren called.

This couldn’t be happening. Adolin stared in shock as Kaladin stood before the king, a broad grin on his lips, the arena now dead silent.  _ It’s over, _ Adolin thought grimly. He’d spent so long setting up this storming duel for nothing.

Elhokar spoke at last. “Arrest him!”

The betrayal on Kaladin’s face as guards came to carry him off was almost too much for Adolin to bear to look at. The shout of anger from his spren was nearly as bad.

_ You’re letting this happen?! Do something! Fight them! Go after him! _

“I can’t,” Adolin muttered, staring as the guards dragged Kaladin away. “I can’t.”


End file.
